


Measure Up

by ThayerKerbasy



Series: The Misadventures of Growley and Squirrel [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Dean, Enthusiastic Consent, Fragile Masculine Egos, Gratuitous Use of Genital Slang, M/M, Mediocre Scotch, Multi, Orgasm Delay, POV Crowley, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Episode: s09e23 Do You Believe In Miracles?, Pre-Episode: s10e01 Black, Smut, The Plot Has Been Delayed Due To Porn, Unless Porn IS The Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 08:08:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8242367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThayerKerbasy/pseuds/ThayerKerbasy
Summary: Crowley had three willing triplets and an enthusiastic Dean Winchester, but a half hour car ride might have killed the mood.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It isn't necessary to have read the first two parts of this series to understand this part, but it sure does help. If you're not interested in the characters and are just here for the smut, enjoy.

It had taken half an hour to drive to Sparky's place while following the brothers' truck. Bear rode along in the back seat of the Impala in case they somehow got lost. It had been so tempting to snap his fingers and teleport everyone so he wouldn't have to endure another tedious car ride, but Dean wanted to maintain the illusion of normalcy. So Crowley put up with half an hour of Dean and Bear discussing cars and guns. If anyone ever discovered the sacrifices he had made to accommodate Dean, he would undoubtedly have some explaining to do.

Many would look and see a hunting cabin, perhaps larger than normal, but still a log cabin in the woods. Crowley saw past the rustic veneer to the underlying luxury. Large windows, a wrap-around deck, an ornate stonework chimney, and too-perfect logs revealed the truth before he even set foot inside. It might be a hunting cabin, but it was an expensive one and certainly not just for hunting. Not his style, of course. Dean nodded as he crossed the threshold and said, “Nice place.”

Having been the first one inside, Sparky pointed to the wall to the immediate right. “Feel free to hang up your coats. Kick off your shoes if you like, but it's alright if you don't want to.” The interior was honey-coloured cedar, warm and inviting. Straight ahead was a fireplace composed of natural stones mortared together like a mosaic. Surrounding the fireplace were a couch and two chairs, all dark brown and soft-looking with wooden side tables between them. Crowley deliberately stepped onto a bearskin rug, though he could have walked around it.

Dean almost immediately untied his boots and kicked them off, then wriggled his toes cheerfully. Crowley briefly considered keeping his shoes on – they were an integral part of his look – but socked feet by the fireplace was a horribly tempting notion. Wiggling his toes some more, Dean grinned and indicated Crowley's shoes with a nod of his head. Well, that settled it. Part of the plan was keeping Dean happy, within reason, and if Dean wanted Crowley to relax and kick off his shoes, then so be it. He toed off his sleek black shoes and placed them neatly against the wall. For good measure, he removed his suit jacket and hung it on a hook. He wasn't doing the jacket any favours by hanging it that way, but it wasn't like he couldn't fix it in a heartbeat. When he turned back around, Dean was looking at him with interest, prompting Crowley to ask, “What? Something on my shirt?”

In the middle of hanging up the outermost of his far-too-many layers, Dean raised his eyebrows and abruptly shook his head. “Naw, just never seen you take any of that off. It's like you're half naked.”

His immediate first response was to smirk and wink, but before he could wittily retort, Sir Knight's eyes widened and he stammered, “You mean you two have never, I mean, you're not,” He points at the air between Crowley and Dean, waving his finger between them. “together?”

Crowley shrugged and said, “It's complicated,” at the same time as Dean scowled and scoffed, “Hell no!”

Understanding dawned in three pairs of eyes. Bear grinned at his brothers and said, “Em, Stef, we don't have to be back to work until late tomorrow, right?”

Sir Knight apparently caught Bear's meaning because his smile widened as well. “Yeah Clay, we're good. Not 'til tomorrow afternoon at least, and Stef's off all day.”

Recognizing the need for Dean to put the pieces together on his own, Crowley clasped his hands in front of him and stood silently, waiting. Dean glanced from one man to the next, the frown melting off his face. Finally he raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips, intrigued. “Well then, what're we waitin' for? How's about we start enjoyin' ourselves.”

Already halfway to the liquor cabinet, Sparky called back, “I was hoping you'd say that. What's your poison?”

“Beer,” Dean replied. “Or tequila, or hell, whatever you got.”

Crowley couldn't help asking, “I don't suppose you've got a decent Scotch?”

While Sparky rummaged around in the liquor cabinet, Crowley strolled over to the fireplace and knelt in front of it. A log sat atop the ashes and charcoal from the previous fire and the tinder to start a new fire was in a basket on the hearth. And yes, Crowley knew how to kindle a fire from nothing but the things before him, but where was the fun in that? For the sake of appearances, he took a few twigs and some shredded newspaper from the basket and made the little tented structure that would nurture a small flame into a larger fire. While he was still building, Sparky asked, “I've got a bottle of Laphroaig Quarter Cask, is that alright?”

Crowley agreed that Laphroaig (and Sparky had absolutely _butchered_ the pronunciation) would be fine, thank you. He decided not to tell Sparky that his preferred Scotch was aged at least twenty years longer than Laphroaig. He was trying to make a good impression after all. For Dean's sake. Of course Dean had gone off to the kitchen to investigate the beer selection with Bear and Sir Knight.

From the corner of his eye, he caught Sparky pouring the Scotch and for a moment he was sure his brain had been utterly fried. Turning his head to get a proper look, he grimaced. “I do hope you don’t plan to pour that Laphroaig into those wine glasses, no matter how lovely the set is. I see some perfectly good lowball glasses over there.”

Sparky looked confused for a moment until he located the indicated glassware for himself. Shrugging, he put away the elegant crystal wine glasses and got out a couple of rather plain-looking whiskey glasses.  He cast Crowley an inquiring glance and waited for confirmation before pouring.

Once his kindling was properly arranged, Crowley imposed his body between the fireplace and the rest of the room, pointed at the tinder and ignited it with a thought. Any excuse to set something on fire was a good excuse. He started small and gradually fed power to the flames – blowing gently in case Sparky was watching – until the bark on the log began to smolder, then stood and dusted off the knees of his trousers.

Turning around put him face to face with Sparky holding two glasses of Scotch and looking impressed, as well he should. Sparky offered one to Crowley and held back the other. Crowley made sure to lightly brush his fingertips over Sparky's as he claimed his drink. Though he had already smelled it from across the room, he made a show of capturing the Laphroaig’s aroma. As he had thought, it smelled like a campfire in a peat bog and had even before he ignited the fireplace, but there were redeeming undertones there. Sparky looked on awaiting his approval, so he smiled graciously, raised his glass, and said, “Cheers.”

Sparky returned the gesture and raised his glass for a cautious taste. Waiting just until Sparky had tasted his, Crowley ventured a sip, seeking those redeeming undertones he had smelled. Whilst enjoying the sight of Sparky's tongue darting out to chase flavour from his lips, Crowley recognized the hints of pepper, sea salt, and honey mingled with the peaty campfire. Considering the circumstances, it could have been worse, though it was certainly no Craig. He lowered his glass and pointedly licked his own lips as well, keeping his eyes on Sparky's reactions. To his delight, Sparky's lovely blue eyes tracked the motion of his tongue and there was a silent moment before he managed to ask, “So, what do you think?”

He would be a piss poor crossroads demon if he couldn't recognize someone ready to deal, so it wasn't exactly a gamble when Crowley replied, “I think you knew exactly what you wanted when you invited Dean and I here. I think I'm intrigued by the possibilities offered by your tongue, you delightfully scruffy morsel. I also think it's going to take those three in the kitchen entirely too long to catch up if we start without them.”

No matter how sure he was, there was always that possibility of error. He maintained a casually flirty exterior, never letting on the uncertainty he always felt in that moment. Appearances were everything, of course, so when Sparky's pupils widened as his smile grew, Crowley carefully limited his reaction to a sly smirk. They were still in the negotiation stage. It wouldn't do to frighten the fellow away before he could close. He took a second sip of his Laphroaig. It wasn’t sharp enough and the the finish was less citrus and more steak, though he was beginning to enjoying the way the smokiness mellowed on his tongue. After a moment's hesitation, Sparky chuckled. “Hell yeah, I like the way you think, Pratchett.”

Taking a healthy swallow of his drink, Sparky shot back a smirk of his own and gestured towards the kitchen. “Let's go help them catch up then, shall we?”

The kitchen was warm and welcoming wood except for the granite counters and glossy black appliances, a blend of city and country that somehow wasn't jarring. Dean, Bear, and Sir Knight stood together, beers in hands, and Bear was in the middle of a story. “- and you shoulda seen the size o' th' thing.”

Crowley couldn't help it. He couldn't bear to listen to another camping story. “Admittedly I missed the beginning of this tale, but I'm going to assume it was a dick measuring contest. Did you win?”

There was a moment of stunned silence before they all burst out laughing, Bear louder than anyone else. Still grinning, he replied, “Yeah, I guess I did.”

Apparently not content to let his brother get away that easily, Sir Knight scoffed and nudged Bear's shoulder. “Did not,” he said. “I was the clear winner that time.”

Bowling over whatever Bear's counter-argument might have been, Dean interjected, “Guys! I think you both know, there's only one way to settle this.”

Both Bear and Sir Knight looked confused, their furrowed brows and slightly parted lips making them look more identical than ever. With a slight shake of his head, Sir Knight broke first. “Dean, you do know we're identical triplets, right?”

While Bear's eyebrows rose as he seemed to grasp Dean's meaning, Dean shrugged, one corner of his mouth curving up. “I'll bet you're not exactly identical. I mean, I'm sure one o' you was better 'bout eatin' your Wheaties than th' other two, right?”

For the first time since entering the kitchen, Sparky chimed in, “C'mon guys, you afraid of losing?”

That galvanized Bear and he lifted his chin in challenge. “Alright fine, who's got somethin' t' measure with?”

What had begun as offhand snark had somehow grown into a genuine contest. On the outside, Crowley was careful to display only mild amusement, but inside he rejoiced. Ah, but the kitchen was not ideal, not with all those chilly granite and steel surfaces. He held up his index finger for a moment, then pointed back to the door. “If I could be of assistance, I believe I have just the thing in my jacket pocket.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and sauntered back to his jacket, his socked feet padding lightly on the wooden floor. After only a few steps, he heard the others following. He reached a hand into the left pocket of his jacket and with a thought, he apported a tailor's tape measure to his hand. Displaying his acquisition between thumb and forefinger, he tossed it over to Sparky and asked, “Well boys, who's first?”

Inevitably, neither Bear nor Sir Knight volunteered, both silently inviting the other to volunteer. What was surprising was Dean's brief shrug before he unbuckled his belt and dropped his jeans to the floor. “Where you wanna do this?”

Bless his soul, Sparky glanced at Crowley for the briefest of moments, then smirked. “Well...” he drew out the words as if the thought had only just occurred to him, “for an accurate measurement, I suppose you'll have to be, uh, standing at attention?”

Human Dean would likely have blushed and stammered his way out of the room, but of course human Dean would never have insisted on such a competition in the first place, let alone volunteering to go first. Demonic Dean's slightly mangled soul was blessedly free of such reluctance. He didn't even hesitate before hitting Sparky with the tried and true Dean Winchester smolder, those gorgeous green eyes locked onto Sparky's baby blues as he asked, “You offerin' t' help?”

“Gladly,” Sparky replied. “Upstairs, cowboy. Bring your pants or leave 'em.”

Tossing a saucy wink over his shoulder, Dean stepped out of his jeans and followed Sparky to the stairs, but before they were halfway up, Sparky called down, “You fellas coming or what?”

The remaining brothers exchanged a glance before Bear smiled and waggled his eyebrows at Crowley. “You feel like lendin' a hand too?”

He swirled his Scotch around in the glass, then took a lazy sip. It would never replace his Craig – it was far too young – but it somehow suited the night. “Darling, are you quite sure you want to limit my assistance to a mere hand?” He let a slow smile steal over his face. “If you were to ask nicely, I might be persuaded to participate with several appendages.”

Both men broke into identical grins, with Bear hurrying up the stairs and Sir Knight indicating the stairs with a sweeping gesture. “I would very much appreciate you joining us, if you please.”

Thus proving that Crowley had not yet lost his touch with nicknames, Sir Knight then set his beer on a side table and waited for Crowley to precede him up the stairs. The fellow would never win any awards for his intellect, but Crowley had no qualms about enjoying every ounce of civility and generosity the man freely shared. He waited until Bear had finished climbing the stairs, then replied, “I would be delighted, good Sir.”

Sweeping past an enchanted Sir Knight, he ascended the stairs to a hallway with several doors, though the rustling sounds of clothing made it obvious which room he sought. Within the room, Dean and Sparky had both stripped down to their smalls and Bear was in the process of removing his jeans. A king-sized bed dominated the room, red and black bedding emphasizing the hunter's lodge aesthetic while the dragons in silhouette on the pillows betrayed something of the owner's personality. A chest of drawers in the corner nearest to the door had already collected two beers and a Scotch atop it, so Crowley added his own. He noted, in passing, the many water stains left by previous beers.

Catching sight of Crowley brought a smile to Sparky's face. “Pratchett! I wasn't sure you were coming.”

“Patience, darling,” Crowley smirked, “never rush a good thing.”

Sir Knight entered the room, took one look and immediately began unbuttoning his shirt. Crowley reached out to help, pausing before touching a button to give the man a chance to stop him. Blushing, Sir Knight took his hands off his shirt to instead loosen Crowley's tie, his fingers carefully not touching skin. In response, Crowley deftly slid the shirt buttons through their buttonholes, every motion caressing soft flannel with fingers that would much rather be caressing a different flannel shirt. Elsewhere in the room Dean made a little _hmm_ sound, climbed onto the bed and started to undo Bear's shirt buttons for him.

With a slithering rustle, Crowley's tie slid to the floor. He finished with the buttons on Sir Knight's shirt, then slipped his hands beneath the fabric, running the palms of his hands over firm muscles until his fingertips found nipples. Sir Knight (he resolved to make at least a token effort to learn the man's name later) gasped, then shrugged out of his shirt and began to undo Crowley's shirt buttons. Giving Sir Knight’s nipples a gentle pinch – and earning a delightful shiver in response – he set to work on Sir Knight’s belt buckle.

The sounds from the bed had changed. Bear had joined the nearly naked club and together with Sparky the two were eliciting thoroughly tantalizing moans from Dean. Of course that had been the plan all along: wear down Dean's habitual resistance until he gave in to his long-repressed desires. He hadn't expected Dean to dive in cock first.

While Sir Knight was still wrestling with buttons, Crowley finished with the belt and then slid his hands around to cup denim-clad buttocks. Heedless of Sir Knight's hands on his shirt, Crowley leaned in to suck a mark into his neck, taking the opportunity to glance over at the three on the bed. Dean and Bear were rather enthusiastically kissing while Sparky licked and fondled Dean's nipples. Sir Knight moaned softly, and Crowley decided at that moment that he would find a way to mark all four of them.

He licked the mark on Sir Knight's neck and moved his hands back to the button on his jeans, working swiftly to strip them off. His haste had nothing to do with the sounds coming from the bed, he simply wanted to catch up, that was all. Finally running his hands over soft skin once more, he slid his fingers beneath the waistband of Sir Knight's Y-fronts and teased at the cleft of his cheeks with a fingertip. Sir Knight made a little noise of approval as he finally managed to undo the last button on Crowley's shirt, his hands moving up over Crowley's chest, over his shoulders and down his back until Crowley gave in and let him slide the shirt off.

Enough was enough. Crowley could be patient when he had to be, but a bear and a dragon were sampling _his_ squirrel while he was left to entertain the virtuous knight. He used his foot to help Sir Knight step out of his jeans while his hands tackled his own trousers. With all stripped down to pants, Sir Knight was more than willing to be steered towards the bed.

Sparky and Bear had done their work well. Had Crowley cared about the competition that had brought them upstairs, he could have taken accurate measurements without even removing the last layer of clothing. As it was he had other motives, but he was a demon of his word, so he began fulfilling his obligations with Bear by licking a trail up his spine, little kitten licks all the way up his back. He licked up and around the curve of Bear's ear, running his hands over Bear's shoulders and down his chest. With a groan, Bear broke off from kissing Dean and turned around. Dean barely had a chance to protest before Sparky took Bear's place and Sir Knight took over kissing and caressing Dean's exposed skin.

Bear hummed an inquiry and in response, Crowley leaned in and flicked his tongue over Bear's nipple before sucking it into his mouth. If the moan he drew forth was any indication, he wouldn't be obligated for long. He ran his fingers down Bear's back and slipped his hands beneath the waistband of Bear's pants while his mouth teased a nipple to hardness, then moved onto the other. Bear caressed Crowley's shoulders and tried to lean down to kiss him, so Crowley abandoned the nipple he had been licking and fell to his knees, taking the last of Bear's clothing to the floor with him. He allowed the faintest hint of his power to show in his eyes and said, “I _always_ keep my promises.”

Bear shivered a delicious full-body shiver. Giving in, he buried his fingers in Crowley's hair – which Crowley would never admit to enjoying – and muttered, “Oh fuck yeah.”

Eye to eye with it, Crowley would have to say that Bear had a fairly average willy. No larger or smaller than expected, nothing to distinguish it; boring. It could wait. First things first though, he licked and kissed his way up Bear's inner thigh until Bear sat down hard on the edge of the bed, causing Dean to glance over. Crowley caught Dean's eye, flashed him a wicked grin, then set about leaving a respectable mark on Bear's thigh. Bear groaned and Dean growled, music to Crowley's ears.

There was movement on the bed. Satisfied with the mark on Bear, Crowley licked a stripe up his cock, swirled his tongue around the head, and watched the other three. Though he was being stimulated by two rather attentive and attractive young men, for some reason Dean abruptly decided to crawl out from beneath them both. Giving a few strokes with his hand, Crowley took Bear's cock into his mouth, servicing him almost without thought while he continued to watch. Dean wasted no time in pushing Sir Knight onto his back, stripping him of the pants Crowley had left, kneeling between his legs, and parting those luscious lips around Sir Knight's knob.

The brothers now formed a duet of moans and Crowley redoubled his efforts, gently scraping the nails of one hand over Bear's balls. He licked and sucked while Dean did the same, but he had experience that Dean lacked, not to mention a head start. It wasn't long before Bear came hard in Crowley's mouth, groaning long and low. Crowley gave Bear's thigh one last pat, then gently shoved him sideways so he wouldn't fall back onto Dean and Sir Knight.

Sparky had been busy. While Crowley and Dean had been racing to the finish, Sparky had managed to coerce Dean into getting naked without a single word. Crowley found himself equal parts impressed and irritated. In any case, since Sparky was tongue-deep in Dean's backside, Crowley decided to take advantage of the situation. There was just enough room to squeeze in behind Sparky, so that's what Crowley did, his back against the headboard and his front pressed firmly against Sparky. Ignoring his own achingly hard and untouched cock nestled up between those perky buttocks, Crowley molded himself against Sparky's back and tangled the fingers of one hand in his hair. Holding him there, Crowley sucked a mark into Sparky's neck while Sparky licked Dean's arse. Dean gave a sloppy blowjob to Sir Knight and Bear watched it all. Such divine depravity in such simple pleasures. Pity he was without his toys.

Dean began to whimper around a mouthful of Sir Knight, making sounds that one might rightfully interpret as begging. If Sparky were to take pity on him... No. Best to put a stop to that notion before it could ruin everything. It took only a small amount of power, carefully applied, to ensure that Dean wouldn't finish until he said so. To make doubly sure, Crowley released his hold on Sparky's hair, tugged down Sparky's pants, took hold of his todger and set to fondling. The moment his fingers closed around the shaft, Sparky moaned into Dean's hole, setting off Dean's whimpers anew, which made Sir Knight gasp. Crowley silently appreciated the moment.

When Sir Knight came, it was with a soft sigh of release punctuated by Dean's moans and Sparky's groans. Crowley was almost disappointed when Dean managed to swallow instead of the coughing and sputtering he might have expected from a fully-human Dean. Still, with his mouth free, Dean was then able to contribute a filthy stream of profanity under his breath which was not to be discounted.

Sir Knight considerately shifted over a bit so Dean could rest his forehead on the bed. Crowley had cause to be glad for his position where he could watch Sparky's tongue darting in and out of Dean's perfect little hole, circling his rim and dragging the most exquisite sounds out of him, but he couldn't see Dean's face and that was disappointing. He gave Sparky's neck one last kiss, then extricated himself from behind Sparky, landing on his side on the bed. The new position was a tad more awkward, the angle more difficult to work from, but he could still stroke Sparky's naughty bits while watching Dean's changing expressions. He could also watch little Dean hanging heavy and untouched. It was definitely worth the inconvenience.

With the awkward angle though, Sparky was better able to concentrate on his chosen task, and Dean's whimpering became pleading. When Dean began to reach back to give himself release, Crowley knew he would have to intervene soon. With a wistful sigh, he shifted position again to his knees to get a better grip and reached the other hand out to rummage in the nightstand drawer. If his suspicions were correct...

He grinned to himself. Everyone keeps their lubricant in the same place. He clicked the cap open and coated his fingers, then returned to jacking Sparky, eliciting much more enthusiastic moans. He set the little bottle atop the nightstand and reached his other hand back to ever-so-lightly tease Dean's balls. He moved cautiously, uncertain of the reception he might receive, but if anything, Dean only begged louder, “Oh God, please, fuck! Fucking... more! Touch me goddammit!”

As with negotiating a deal, timing was everything. One must never rush when timing was so important. Crowley continued to tease Dean's nether regions with one hand while pleasuring Sparky with the other. If he bodged the timing, he might convince First Place and Runner Up to tend to his needs, but that was not an option to consider.

Sparky abandoned all pretense of rimming, resting his head on Dean's firm backside, his breath huffed warm over Dean's skin. He was close, no doubt about it. To ensure he didn't lose the progress he had made, Crowley took Dean firmly in his hand and idly teased at his slit, dragging out another sinfully long moan. His other hand worked at increased speed while Sparky thrust an irregular rhythm into his fist. A moment later, Sparky stiffened and spilled over Crowley's hand. Crowley milked him through until he was twitching from over-stimulation, then wiped his hand off onto Sparky's own undergarments. Sparky could deal with that later.

With only him and Dean left, he could afford to take a moment. He tenderly kissed Dean's hip, stroked him once more, and let go of him so he could pick up and move Sparky. “Most sincere apologies, darling, but you're in my spot.”

Sparky merely hummed his acquiescence and flopped bonelessly where he was placed. Having been on the edge for so long, Dean growled at being suddenly neglected. “Fuckin' get back here, limey bastard!”

Occupying the position so recently vacated by Sparky, Crowley reclaimed the little bottle off the nightstand and slicked his fingers once more. He made certain it was within reach, then circled a fingertip around Dean's puckered hole and teased the very tip inside. “I'm going to give you what you've wanted for ever so long, love, but I want to hear you ask for it.”

Panting and moaning, Dean tried to fuck himself back onto Crowley's finger, but Crowley withdrew. Desperately, he reached back to fumble at Crowley's hand, then growled, “Dammit, fuckin' fuck me!”

Crowley allowed himself one brief triumphant grin before slipping a finger inside Dean. Bless Sparky, he had done his work well. A second finger slid inside with relative ease and he began to spread his fingers. A small application of power sped up the process without anyone the wiser and he moved on to three fingers, scissoring in and out of a deliciously incoherent Dean.

Entirely recovered and watching the show with evident enjoyment, Bear shifted around until he could hook a finger in Crowley's waistband. He tugged down on the sleek red satin and Crowley decided to allow it. His hands were busy after all. Bear stroked and caressed as he inched further down, intent on removing the last article of clothing in the room.

It was said that Crowley had sold his soul for a few extra inches below the belt. The truth was, that had actually been the request of the literary agent he now wore. The fellow had enjoyed ten years of moderately large manhood before his time was up. It had seemed like a shame to let it go to waste when he was done with it.

That delightfully smooth satin slipped down his thighs. Sir Knight's eyes widened comically. Bear let out a low whistle. Sparky chuckled softly, shook his head and said, “Sorry boys, Pratchett wins.”

His hands occupied, Crowley carefully shrugged and smiled self-deprecatingly. “What can I say? Charm, wit, talent, and hellishly good looks too. I know, I must be blessed.”

From the mattress came a long, low growl of demonic frustration that culminated in a roar of, “Will you shut the fuck up and fuck me already?!”

If there had been no witnesses present, Crowley might have been tempted to prolong Dean's torment. Scratch that. He most certainly would have prolonged Dean's torment for as long as he could. But again, there were ignorant mortals present and for whatever reason, Dean wanted to pretend. It was probably for the best to restrict their first time to mostly vanilla things – aside from the whole orgy thing.

Although, ignorant mortals did have their uses. He cast the still-open bottle a significant glance and asked, “Do I have a volunteer willing to lend a hand?”

Bear immediately snatched up the bottle. “Fuck, yes.” He applied a generous amount to his own hand, wrapped his fingers around Crowley's girth, then slowly stroked. Crowley mentally re-evaluated his opinion; it wouldn't have been entirely horrible if he had to depend on First Place to finish him off. Bear's eyelids fluttered shut and he groaned, “Damn, I wish I'da known before we got started. What I wouldn’t give for you to let me wrap my lips around that beast.”

He gave the man a considering look, then lifted one eyebrow and quirked a half-smile. “Anything's possible if you ask nicely. I suppose that could be arranged.”

There came another warning growl from the bed. Amused, Crowley withdrew his fingers, leaving Dean clenching around empty air and cursing a blue streak. He wished he could take his time to admire the sight, but again timing was everything. He had waited so long to get Dean in this position; he intended to savour every moment. Positioning the head of his John Thomas at Dean's entrance, he stayed there, waiting. Whatever manipulating he had done to reach this point, he wanted willing participation. He pushed forward with the most gentle pressure and watched Dean's body welcome him in. Dean's hands tightened into fists around handfuls of blanket and he breathed, “Oh fuck yessss.”

It was so hard to wait, to remain still while engulfed in warm, tight _Dean_ , but Crowley remained perfectly still until Dean decided to move. He didn't have to wait long. Sooner than he had expected, Dean eased himself further back, taking Crowley deeper and moaning utterly shamelessly. Were it not for their muggle audience, Crowley would have jumped straight to ploughing into that durable demonic arse, but of course that would again raise some red flags. Once he began to feel the first hints of resistance he pulled back – both hands on Dean's perfectly-cushioned love handles exerting just enough power to hold Dean in place – and said, “Get those wonderfully eager fingers back over here.”

Bear quite cheerfully complied, coating Crowley's tackle more thoroughly than necessary, though Crowley wouldn't dream of complaining. Dean complained more than enough for both of them, trying – and failing – to thrust himself back. “Damn you, Crowley! What 're you waiting for? Get the fuck back here!”

On sheer principle, Crowley held back a few moments longer than strictly necessary. He stroked Dean's hip with his thumb and sighed, “While I do appreciate your ardor, love, I have no desire to do you damage.”

Rather than slowing down, Dean growled and struggled harder against the forces holding him. Apparently the thought of pain was no deterrent. Crowley filed that thought away for future use, then slowly sheathed himself to the hilt in one smooth thrust, dragging moans from them both. He could have stayed there all night simply _feeling_ , but of course Dean was having none of it. Reluctantly, he released Dean from his invisible bonds, but kept one hand in place and moved the other to lightly stroke Dean's neglected erection. Dean drew in a shuddering breath and tried to thrust into his hand, thus also fucking himself back and forth onto Crowley, a movement which Crowley was now more than happy to accommodate.

The triplets were all visibly enjoying the show, eyes glazed with lust and recovering tallywhackers at half-mast. Time for a little audience participation. “Who has a free hand and the willingness to use it?”

That perked them up. It seemed all three were more than eager. Well then, “My gallant Knight, so chivalrous. Kindly lubricate your palm. I require both of my hands, which leaves Dean's sword in need of a skilled hand.”

Sir Knight, so willing to serve, didn't even hesitate. Crowley was soon able to plant both hands on Dean's hips once more, leaving him free to concentrate on what mattered. He matched Dean's rhythm and adjusted his angle with each thrust. He knew he had found it when Dean's entire body spasmed, a strangled, “Oh God,” falling from his lips. Crowley had Little Dean on lockdown, unable to even leak a little. The pressure must have been maddening. He couldn't help grinning as he quickened his thrusts, aiming for the same spot over and over.

Dean was reduced to panting punctuated by demanding growls when Crowley felt the insistent need within begin to build. It rose like a wave, building, surging, cresting. As it threatened to overtake him, Crowley reclaimed the power binding Dean. The effect was immediate. Dean cried out as he was finally able to find release, a geyser erupting onto the bed and painting the blanket white. Crowley thrust into the delicious fluttering heat clenching around him until he too was swept away, the wave crashing over him. He slammed hard into Dean, spurting deep inside and filling his no longer virginal hole.

The feeling of bliss was intoxicating. Resting his forehead on Dean's back, he didn't even care when Dean let his legs slide out from under him so they both collapsed breathlessly onto the bed. It took a moment for Dean to mumble, “Oh gross, I'm on the wet spot.”

Sliding to the side so he didn't crush Dean, Crowley absently ran his fingers through Dean's sweat-damp hair while behind him, Bear did the same to him. On Dean's other side, Sir Knight sat on the edge of the bed wiping his hands on a discarded t-shirt. Crowley hadn't even noticed Sparky's absence, but he re-entered the room – still gloriously naked – carrying a pitcher of water and a stack of plastic cups. If Dean didn't let that one in on their secret, Crowley might have to do it for him. Sparky set the cups next to the beers and Scotch and began to fill the cups with water. “Alright, drink up,” he said, “There's a shower down the hall and a hot tub out back. Whether you want sleep or round two, I figure plenty of water is in order first.”

Crowley didn't want to move. Moving would mean no more touching. He wanted to clean up with a snap of his fingers and enjoy this hair stroking business until everyone fell asleep. He finally had exactly what he wanted. Didn't he deserve a chance to savour that?

The choice was made for him. Dean peeled the spunk-splattered blanket from his chest and slid off the bed. “Dude, hot tub sounds awesome.” He then crossed the floor to reclaim his beer, ignoring the water, and chugged what remained. “After that? Definitely round two.”

Crowley got up, pulling away from Bear's gentle fingers, and moved to stand beside Dean, also ignoring the water in favour of his Scotch. He needed a drink. Taking a sip, he chased the hints of pepper and honey, ignoring the campfire smoke through sheer determination. Not sure if he could trust his voice, Crowley indicated Dean with his glass and said, “What he said.”

He wasn't sure what he had expected. It didn't matter. He still had four willing, eager participants and a hot tub. He hadn't even warmed his toes by the fire yet. The night was still young.

**Author's Note:**

> Due to popular request, I went there. This is my first smut fic. Most folks would probably start with something simple, but no, I had to go and write an orgy with two demons and a set of male triplets. And no, this isn't the last we'll be seeing of them. Let's be real, that was hardly "extraordinary things" done to triplets, right?
> 
> Thanks again to poD7et for beta'ing this mess.
> 
> As always, please leave comments and kudos to let me know what you think. Please also feel free to come find me on Tumblr where I'm @thayerkerbasy


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